


gallows.

by bluemccns



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, a drabble i wrote feat. my mc and julian, also like there is a big ol death mention in there, brief description of death by hanging, with a little bit of nadia and portia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 04:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12335796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemccns/pseuds/bluemccns
Summary: if only we had more time.





	gallows.

The harmonious sound of violins mixes with the dull roar of idle chatter to create the telltale ambiance of a grand social gathering. Far from the merriment, Clover stands with her back to the wall, its cool, smooth surface soothing the overheated skin left exposed by the plunging open back of her dress. Her head feels heavy and her neck has begun to ache with the effort of supporting an intricate heap of curls, pins, and braids. She considers picking away at the complicated updo to provide some sort of relief, but ruining something Portia put so much effort into seems almost criminal. Lying on the floor beside her are the heeled shoes she had worn at the start of the party. While she does try her best to be respectable, Clover has her limits.  
  
            It takes her a moment to register the sudden silence that befalls the ballroom as she laments her discomfort, but when she does, she’s instantly uneasy. Couples that had previously been dancing now gather in the center of the vicinity with perfect syncopation to their footsteps until they form a massive impenetrable crowd. Maybe it’s because she took off her shoes, but Clover can’t see over anyone, leaving her to wonder what exactly they’re so eager to see.  
  
            She pushes off the wall, stepping hesitantly toward the cluster of party guests. She’s just about to reach the back of the group when a familiar voice shatters the tense air of stillness. Her heart gives a sickening lurch when she hears Nadia address the people of Vesuvia.  
  
            “It is with great pride that I announce to you that my husband’s murderer is once again in our custody,” she says triumphantly, prompting a collective cheer from the crowd.  
  
            Clover’s knees go weak.  
  
             _No, no, no._  
  
            She squeezes through a gap between two people, working her way into the masses with her pulse pounding as the countess continues her speech.  
  
            “I know how troubling times have been since the departure of our beloved Count. May he rest peacefully knowing justice will be wrought.”  
  
            The distant clanking of chains and the rumble of heavy footsteps reach Clover’s ears, and she picks up the pace, throwing elbows into the sides of masked figures with hisses of  “let me through” and “out of my way.”  
  
            There’s a single, distinct thud—what she can only guess are knees hitting the ground.  
  
            “Welcome, Doctor Devorak.”  
  
            The crowd bellows once more. Some are celebrating. Others are shouting profanities and curses toward the doctor. Clover pushes forward, feeling marble tiling of the dance floor turn to grass and mud beneath her bare feet. The walls of the ballroom crumble, leaving a starlit sky to take the place of dim candlelight. Chilly night air bites at her skin and raises goosebumps on her flesh despite how awfully overheated she feels.  
  
            “Tonight,” says Nadia, “is the night he receives the punishment he so deserves. Before your eyes…”  
  
            Clover gathers the long skirts of her scarlet gown and barrels through the throng of onlookers in a headlong sprint.  
  
            “…this man shall hang.”  
  
            The response from the audience is overwhelming. The ear-piercing sound is teetering on the edge of painful, but something so trivial is easily forgotten in a time of such urgency. She’s very nearly made her way through the never-ending sea of people. Just a bit more and—  
  
            “ _STOP!_ ”  
  
            Clover shoves aside the last person in her way and breaks through. Finally, she sees it: There, before her, stands Nadia accompanied by two palace guards, each with a vice grip on Julian’s arms. He kneels upon the scaffold, and behind him, the fraying rope of a noose swings from the gallows.  
  
            “Of course.” Nadia regards her with a smile. “I must give credit where it is due. I couldn’t have done it without you, Clover.”  
  
            “No!” she cries, “I—I didn’t want—Nadia, please! Don’t do this.”  
  
            She watches in horror as Julian is hefted into a standing position.  
  
            “You are a clever one, indeed,” he says, fixing her with a stare from a singular hazel eye as he climbs the rungs of a ladder.  
  
            She takes off in a beeline for the steps of the scaffold, all the while fixated on the noose looping round the doctor’s neck. He smiles at her.  
  
            “It seems you’ve learned a thing or two from that master of yours.”  
  
            Any response she may have had dies on her lips and gives way to a blood-curdling scream when the ladder is removed, leaving him to kick at the air while struggling to breathe. She can’t tear her eyes away.  
  
             _This is my fault._  
  
            She falls to her knees with a wail. The lifeless body hanging from the gallows blurs in her tear-filled vision, and she squeezes her eyes shut.  
  
            There’s a change of scenery when she opens them. She’s alone now, in the courtyard. The wood of the scaffold is replaced with lush grass. The gallows are gone, replaced by a tree. A tattered noose swings from one of the branches. There’s a name carved into the bark. Her name. When she reaches a shaking hand out to touch it, her fingertips are met with the familiar thrum of Asra’s magic.  
  
            “Clover!”  
  
            She hears someone calling her name distantly.  
  
            “Clover!”  
  
            The voice becomes clearer, and the world around her begins to fade.  
  
            “Clover, wake up!”  
  
            She awakes to the sound of Portia knocking on her door. Sunlight streams through the window of her bedroom at the palace.  
  
            “’M up,” she replies hoarsely.  
  
            “Okay! Milady would like to see you for breakfast in an hour,” Portia chirps from the other side of the door.  
  
            “Alright.”  
  
            Portia’s footsteps disappear down the corridor, leaving Clover to shake herself from that dream. Her cheeks are wet with tears, and her throat is raw from screaming. She wonders how she hadn’t managed to wake anyone. Thick strands of brown hair stick to her face and neck with sweat, and the silky material of her nightgown and sheets make her feel as if she is surrounded by eels again.  
  
            With a bit of reluctance, she forces herself out of bed and into some clothes. Nadia is bound to chew her out for her disappearance the other day, and she needs to dream up some sort of excuse. It’s hard to think, though, seeing as her mind is otherwise occupied. She sighs defeatedly and sits on the edge of her bed, grabbing a book from her nightstand and leafing through the pages until she comes across pressed blue petals.  
  
            Clover idly spins the flower between her fingertips, reflecting on what Julian said to her that night.  
  
             _“I’d love to make something real with you. If we had more time.”_  
  
            She decides as she sets the book back on the nightstand that she’s going to make time, no matter what she has to do.


End file.
